


Country Magic #2 - I Don't Dance

by olivejuice28



Series: Country Magic [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Happy Ending, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 04:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: Based off the song "I Don't Dance," by Lee Brice. Draco recounts the memories that have led up to this moment, each one involving a dance floor.





	Country Magic #2 - I Don't Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: As much as I adore them all, I don't own any of the characters in the HP world, nor do I make any money off these little fantasies of mine ;)

**Country Magic #2**

**I Don’t Dance**

The first time he’d shared a dance floor with her, they had been Fourth Years at Hogwarts. He’d staunchly planted himself on the edge of the allotted space, far too cool to participate in the ridiculousness his schoolmates were engaged in, but close enough to poke fun at them. He’d stood there, watching her twirl gracefully on the arm of that boorish Bulgarian, smiling up at him as if he’d hung the moon. He refused to acknowledge the tiny voice in the back of his mind that wondered what it would be like to be in the surly git’s place. He’d forced himself to focus on others, to add to the snide comments his housemates were making, but found his gaze repeatedly returning to her. He’d openly mocked her to his friends, but the image of her floating by in a cloud of periwinkle, her eyes shining and her smile dazzling, had stayed with him for years.

The second time, five years later, had been at a Ministry gala. He wasn’t actually on the dance floor at all that time, but instead at an elaborately decorated table along the side. From his seat he could observe her behind the flowering explosion that stood as the centerpiece without being seen. She had danced with several officials, a former classmate or two, and of course, Potter. She was stunning, as usual, in a floor-length gown of crimson velvet, her hair pulled up in an intricate design, but the scowl currently on her face detracted from the otherwise perfect image. She seemed to be in the middle of a disagreement with Weasley, who was attempting to steer her in some semblance of a waltz. They had arrived together, looking stiff and uncomfortable in each other’s presence, and apparently things had not improved as the night progressed. His suspicions were confirmed at the end of the song when she abruptly pulled herself out of the redhead’s arms and stalked off the floor.

The third time occurred barely a year after the gala. He had grudgingly allowed himself to be dragged to a club by a handful of friends and was leaning against the bar, surveying the crowd when he spotted her. She was dancing with a couple of her girlfriends in the middle of the floor, and as he watched, she was approached by a bloke who looked like he meant more harm than good. He pushed himself off the bar and slowly started weaving his way through the mass of people in her direction. By the time he was within arm’s reach, the stranger was definitely too close for comfort and wasn’t taking the hint. He had tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around, eyes wide with alarm and then confusion as she registered who he was. He simply offered his hand and jerked his head in the direction he’d come from and she readily accepted. He’d meant to lead her to a table, or back to the bar, but as they reached the edge of the dance floor, the music had slowed and she’d pressed into his side and heaved a sigh of relief. Figuring he might as well make it look real, since the creepy bloke was now staring daggers at him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and started swaying slowly on the spot. She followed his lead immediately, winding her arms up around his neck and whispering a soft “thank you,” before resting her head on his shoulder.

And now, here they were, two years after that fateful night. Instead of a crowded club, thumping with bass-driven noise, they were literally the only two people in the middle of a sizeable dance floor, the nearby candlelight reflecting off its polished surface, while soft music filled the air. He held her close, breathing in her floral scent, reminding himself that this was real and not just a dream. She was, once again, the most beautiful woman in the room. Her gown floated around her like a sparkling cloud, and her curls, which he absolutely adored, tumbled gracefully down her back. He had told her she could have whatever she wanted, and she had only asked one thing from him; a first dance. She knew he wasn’t too keen on the idea, but it was tradition, and really, it was how it all began, wasn’t it? So of course he’d agreed, and if he was completely honest with himself, he was rather enjoying the moment. He closed his eyes to block out the cheeky grins he knew their friends were sporting, and the teary smiles their mothers were hiding behind handkerchiefs. He felt her shift in his arms and glanced down to see her gazing at him, utterly, blissfully happy, and he knew he would dance to a thousand more songs with his wife, if that's what she wanted.

**“I don’t dance, but here I am, spinning you around and around in circles. It ain’t my style, but I don’t care, I’d do anything with you anywhere. Yes, you got me in the palm of your hand. ‘Cause I don’t dance.” ~ Lee Brice**

**Author's Note:**

> Second installment of my totally geeky country HP fic. This is the happy ending I have always envisioned for my favorite couple :)


End file.
